


Somewhere Only We Know (Mystic Messenger High School AU)

by Maeven42



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: AU in more ways than just high school, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - High School, Cunnilingus, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, High School, I will edit as I go along, Jumin and MC are on a high school debate team together, Jumin becomes more prominent later, MC has female pronouns and anatomy, MC is pretty dry and rational, Mild spoilers for Jumin's and Seven's stories and secret endings, Mutual attraction with Jaehee but idk if it will go further, Non-Consensual Kissing, Oral Sex, POV Second Person, Past Rape/Non-con, People are emotionally fucked up like canon but maybe worse, Polyamorous Character, Polyamory, Primary romance with Zen in early chapters, Prom, RFA hosts school dances for charity, Rika is mysterious, Saeran is kind of a villain, School Dances, Secrets, Sexual Tension, Slow Dancing, Spoilers for secret endings, Underage Sex, V is an assistant teacher, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Zen is more flirty than in canon but there's a reason, and I don't want to spoil what happens with Seven but he's a bit in the mix, and maybe romance with Saeran and/or Yoosung later but probably not, at first at least lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-01 14:05:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13296453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maeven42/pseuds/Maeven42
Summary: You are a new student at the prestigious Cheritz academy. How will you navigate new exposure to privilege, mean girls, being on the debate team with pompous ass Jumin Han, and most confusingly, the emotional complexities of RFA?





	1. Welcome

**Author's Note:**

> Note - thanks for reading! In this work, I'm trying to copy Korean school culture as much as possible, but I don't know that much, so if there's anything glaring/objectionable, please let me know!

Welcome to the best years of your life: that's what the brochure told you, but you had yet to decide if it was true. 

When you entered the school hallway, a what felt like a million eyes were glued to you. It wasn’t surprising, really. Scholarships after first year were uncommon, and you were entering as a second year - but a spot had opened up in your year’s class, and having been the second in line for the scholarship when you applied as a freshman, you were a natural fit. When the school called you, you could hardly believe it. Cheritz academy? You, a scholarship student? It was beyond a dream come true. 

Unfortunately, your first day was starting in a very non-ideal trajectory. The first problem? Your garb. At Cheritz, everyone wore matching suits - black blazers with white piping and the school logo, with sharp black skirts and pants. Your shoes were thread bare, the soles nearly rubbed through from pacing and walking. Your blazer had been ripped and mended a number of times, and your blouse was a hand-me-down. As you walked towards the admin building to pick up your schedule and class assignment, a million eyes burned holes in your already worn out clothes. 

“Here is your schedule. You're in the second year, A class.” The secretary handed you a piece of paper with a map attached. She looked you up and down with a benevolently classist expression. Great. 

It didn't matter how many nasty looks you got: You could hardly stop from checking out your surroundings. The school really was gorgeous. The floors were marble, and there were columns surrounding every doorway. Even the teachers were well dressed. They were all experts in their fields, and that’s why you were there. That’s why you had decided to leave everything you knew, to say goodbye to every friend you’d had since grade school, to agree to a mile walk to the bus each day for transportation. You had goals, and you were determined to set yourself up to achieve them, even if it meant a little social alienation and sacrifice. Nothing was going to get in your way, despite the snickers in the hallway as you walked to your first period. However, it was something worse than cruel laughter which caused you to pause, hiding behind a corner to eavesdrop. A short, thin blond boy stood with his back against the wall, cornered by a group of girls, who appeared to be questioning him in what was clearly intended to be threatening manner. The boy seemed to have bought the act. This is where you encountered your second problem: your big mouth. 

“What are you doing with them anyway?” A notable figure of the group, a brunette with large blue eyes, was glaring fiercely at him. Her expression crossed mockery and bordered on contempt. You could tell from square one that these would be a group ideally avoided. The grimaces of passing students told you other people knew it was wrong, but they seemed either too afraid or too apathetic to speak up. Anyone without a backbone would go to lengths to avoid getting on their bad side. Unfortunately for you, this was not a trait you embraced. Just because there were likely repercussions, that didn’t mean they should get away with treating someone like this. You paused, hoping to let the situation play out without your involvement, although you were willing to engage if necessary. 

“Wh-what do you mean?” The boy stammered, looking more than intimidated. 

“You’re not hot enough to hang out with them. You just get in the way.”

“I have my own charm,” he muttered, not particularly seeming to believe it.

“Please. You think you can cover up what you really are by joining clubs? You’re just a geek in disguise.” The pink haired girl tossed silken looks over her shoulder, smirking at him.

“And b-besides! If they want to hang out with me, who are you to stop them? Shouldn’t it be their choice? Neither of them would like it if they saw you behaving like this.” He was practically cowering, now, as the girls leered over him. 

“Please. Just because you’re Rika’s cousin, doesn’t mean you get to-“ 

“Don’t talk about her!” 

“Whatever. We all know what kind of person she was, dating one of the teachers. And look where it got her?” 

“Stop saying those things! V was taking advantage of her.” 

“Which is it? Was she a slut or an idiot?” 

“That’s enough about Rika! How could you?” 

“Why does it get under your skin so much? Did you like her or something? We all know you dyed your hair to look like her.” 

“Of course I didn’t like her! Not like that.” 

“Whatever,” one of the girls said, twirling her hair. “I don’t care about whatever incestuous interest you had in Rika. I’m only talking to you because you’re getting in the way of my time with the sexy guys who still go to this school. You should just leave them alone. Do you really think anyone would choose a loser like you over us? A group of beautiful corporate heiresses?” The situation was escalating, and there was a perfectly glib moment for you to interject. You swallowed, knowing you would regret what you were about to do, even if it was right.

“Yes,” you said, interjecting into the conversation and stalking towards them. “Any day.” You looked at the boy. 

“___ ___. Nice to meet you.” 

“Yoosung Kim.” He reached a shaky hand towards yours, but one of the girls slapped it away.

“And who do you think you are?” They turned their ire towards you. A once over at you told them all the information you needed. “Oh. The new scholarship student. I’ll give you a one time pass because you don’t know how things work around here. But this is your only strike, understand? He’s no one. And so are you. So you would do best to stay out of it.” 

“If he’s no one, why are you bothering him? Are you really so insecure that a nobody would upset you enough to waste your time on them?” The girls were fuming, but your logic was irrefutable. “If it’s true that he’s so intrinsically flawed, whoever it is you’re gushing over will realize it soon enough.” 

“Yeah!” The blonde boy nodded enthusiastically, before realizing that there was probably a subtle insult hidden somewhere in your words. “Wait, what?” You ignored him.

‘But I doubt it. There’s probably a reason they aren’t paying you any attention - and I’m guessing it’s a lack of class and dignity.” 

“That’s enough, bitch -“ one of the girls began to walk towards you, a hand raised to slap you. You stepped backwards, but you hit a wall, realizing that the posse had trapped you. Bracing for impact, you closed your eyes, but it never came. You opened your eyes, ready to close them again to lessen the potential pain and shock of the attack, but you saw something you didn’t expect.

A tall, white haired guy, stood behind her, her hand clasped in his, their fingers laced. She was coquettishly batting her eyebrows, any intent of hitting you immediately evaporated at the man’s arrival. Not that you could entirely blame her. He was beautiful. Crimson eyes sparkled on his white skin, his grin was dazzling, and the way his uniform fit his toned, tall, and lean body was enough to make even you want to stare. That is, until he opened his mouth. 

“Ladies… I know it’s hard, with only one me to go around, but there’s no reason for it to come to blows.” Who was this guy, and why did he automatically assume any conflict, which he hadn’t even been listening to up to this point, was about him? Pompous, much? “And you, sweetheart.” He turned his gaze to you. “We haven’t met before. I would never forget eyes as entrancing as yours.” 

“When you arrived, they were shut. And you've no reason to believe my heart is particularly sweet.” He flushed, going slightly rigid.

“W-well, I can see them now. Did I mention they were gorgeous?” 

“You managed to convey the sentiment.” 

“Well that’s something.” He smiled at himself, pleased to have made what he perceived as progress. 

“I will acknowledge that it was, indeed, something. As to whether or not that something was good, I have yet to determine.” He burst out into laughter, cheeks red and tears building in his eyes. The sound was crisp and golden, more like the sound of leaves rustling on a fall day than anything you would expect from a person. 

“What's your name, and why haven't we met? You’re something else! So funny.” You had no idea what he was going on about. Rich people really were different. 

“Zen,” one of the girls cooed, interrupting. “I missed you over break.” 

“I missed you too, honey. But you can’t go around bullying my friends like this, okay? Or this cute new girl. I don’t like it, and I won’t be able to let you sneak in to watch my rehearsals anymore if I think there’s a risk of you mistreating my cast.

“We would never,” one of the girls chimed in. 

“Oh? Because Yoosung is working sets on the current production. You already have.” The girls shrunk away, suitably scolded. I couldn’t help but notice someone pinch the girl who had appeared to be the instigator, and she looked at the ground, an expression of what appeared to be genuine shame on her face.

“Okay,” one of them murmured. “We’ll leave him alone. But she stepped out of line.” 

“That’s enough, Echo. So did you.” She frowned at him and held her tongue. You had little doubt that this just meant she would be more secretive about her tormenting of you, and nothing more. The bell rang, and to your surprise, Zen followed you towards your next class. 

“So, babe, what can I do to make it up to you?” He turned his sparkling grin to you, and against your will, you felt your knees get a little weak.

“What do you mean?” 

“That was my fault. Well, I mean, if it’s not god’s fault for making a mistake as stunning as me.” You rolled your eyes. He did not seem to notice your reaction and paused to admire himself in the reflection of one of the windows. You had to go to class, and would not wait for him. “Wait, jagi! I have to talk to you.” He loped gracefully after you, the lines of his body far more elegant than you had ever seen on another male, and you tried to resist becoming mesmerized at the way his muscles danced under his uniform. “The reason those girls were harassing Yoosung was because they’re jealous that he’s friends with me. You were targeted because you stepped in. So I owe you. How can I make it up to you?” You paused. What did you want? “I’ll do anything. Tell me, darling: what does your heart desire? How can I make it beat faster?” You tried to resist the urge to cringe. 

“Do you know… does the dressing room have spare uniforms?” He grinned. 

“That, princess, is a request I can easily grant.” He paused. “How opposed are you to skipping class?”

“Quite.” He looked somewhat put out.

“What? I’m here on academic scholarship.” 

“Fair enough,” he said with a shrug. “I’ll meet outside this classroom, here-“ he gestured balletically across the hall, “during study period.” 

“I’ll see you then.” 

“I can’t wait,” he said with a wink. Despite your misgivings, you couldn't help, on some level, but to share the feeling.


	2. Dressing Room Rendezvous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I brave on into my second chapter of the story. Thanks for taking the time to check it out!

The school had a block during each day, for each year, which was reserved for studying. Students were recommended to be supervised by a teacher of their choice for tutoring, with a permission slip, or their homeroom teacher, but they were also allowed to have club meetings, meaning there was a lot of leniency. You could tell from the very first day that it would be easy enough to slip through the cracks. And you were glad for this, and your chance meeting with Zen, for it would mean a reduction of the unpleasant stares you had gotten that morning and through your first two classes. 

You expected him to be at least a few minutes late, probably bogged down by hordes of fangirls - a notion you had trouble conceptualizing without rolling your eyes - or at least held up by a class, but the opposite was true. When you arrived at the meeting spot, he had been waiting for you, leaning picturesquely against the wall of lockers, gazing into the distance.

“Babe,” he called across the hall, meeting your eyes. You turned around, looking behind your shoulders to see exactly who he was addressing like that. After a moment of awkward silence, when you realized you were alone, you grimaced and looked back at him. He had called you that earlier, but it had been an off-hand remark, not something you figured would stick. 

“Hi,” you replied, waving meekly. 

“Follow me.” He reached for your hand, threading his fingers through yours like it was nothing, and led you down the hallway. “So,” he said, looking back at you as you half-jogged behind him, struggling to keep up with his lengthy strides. “When you asked about the uniforms - how did you know I was a performer? Could it be… have you heard of me?” You tried to prevent your eyebrows from shooting off the top of your head. Did most people with an acting resume of high school productions have followers outside of said educational institutions? You were heavily inclined to believe the answer was a very firm ’no.’ 

“I mean, you mentioned rehearsals, but there were a few other things - first, the fans?”

“There are guys in this school who have fans who aren’t involved in theater. Of course… no one has as lovely fans as I do.”

“I have to be honest, they seem a little lacking in poise based on my interactions earlier.”

“They weren’t just my fans. Some of those girls were also into Ju-“ He paused, shaking his head.

“Who?” You weren’t sure who he was talking about, but you were highly skeptical of the notion that all of his fans were angels. One of them had been about to smack you!  


“Someone not worthy of discussion. But what else?” He looked back at you, seeming eager for more of your analysis. 

“You move like a dancer.” 

“Do I?” You nodded, and he squeezed your hand. “That’s such an amazing compliment, jagi.” His cheeks were practically pink as he continued to drag you around another corner to a door. He paused, looking back at you. “I haven’t actually been dancing that long. Just a year. I couldn’t afford lessons until I was able to start taking them here.” You were curious about the meaning of what he had just said. This school wasn’t exactly cheap - it wasn’t until you were offered a scholarship that you were able to attend, after all, and Zen’s cavalier attitude towards skipping class didn’t exactly scream the kind of academic motivation that a scholarship like yours required. But you bit your tongue, unwilling to ask questions about his financial situation, lest he expect you share as well, and the last thing you wanted was to stammer through an explanation of your family circumstances. Seemingly unaware of your internal dilemma, he turned around, his ponytail swishing over his shoulder, before finally producing a key from his pocket, which he handily stuck into the lock. The door opened to pitch blackness. “I’m sure you’re wondering how someone like me even got into this school.” You had, in fact, not been wondering. You could only guess how you seemed to students there, and you knew better than to judge ability by appearances and shallow first impressions, even if it did give you a small guess as to his scholastic seriousness. 

“Why would you say that?”

“You must be really smart to get in here on a scholarship. I have to seem really ordinary to you, in comparison.”

“Zen,” you said with a wry smile. “You seem anything but ordinary.” 

“Oh, God. There are so many ways I could take that -“

“Do so in a good way.” He beamed back at you, a smile with enough watts to blind someone.

“I’m here on an acting scholarship. As long as I get B’s, I get access to some of the best teachers in the area. And these facilities.” He finally flicked the lights on, which illuminated the massive auditorium in front of you. You had seen a picture of it on a brochure, but it was far more breathtaking in person. The room was tall enough to be several stories high, and you were standing in the top row of seats, which were each covered with plush, red material. The walls were a glowing gold, and the theater was lit, across all of the seats, every aisle, and hanging from above with a million glowing lights. When you noticed the size of the room, you immediately became aware of how silent it was, and how loudly your gasp must have been heard. As you gazed around,, Zen noted your dropped jaw, and raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t it something?”

“It’s like being inside a jewelry box,” you said in disbelief.” He nodded proudly. 

“Every time I open these doors I can almost here it saying ‘welcome home.’ It’s like the space speaks to me.” 

“That’s really…” You paused as pain flickered through your chest, and Zen laughed uncomfortably.

“Are you going to call me weird?” 

“No…” You crinkled your eyebrows. “Not at all. I think it’s amazing.” You knew the feeling well. It was one you experienced many times, when standing at the front of a classroom, about to read your speech for debate. You tried to shove away the rush to your cheeks from all of the fond memories, but couldn’t help letting a little of the longing from slip through. Like Zen, you had something that spoke to you. You could only hope that you would work things out to continue it at your new school. He squeezed your hand a little more tightly, you fell back to reality, realizing you had been motionless, still, with him, for a number of minutes. “Zen?” He was still standing there, breathing heavily and enraptured in the space. 

“Huh?” He flickered back to reality, eyes recognizing yours.

“The dressing room?” 

“Ah,” he said, laughing and rubbing the back of his head with his free land sheepishly. “I was so caught up just standing here with you. I forgot.” He led you down the stairs - and there were a lot of them. By the time you reached the small door at the very bottom, you were nearly breathless. 

“Don’t you dare make a comment about how I need to exercise more.” 

“I would never,” he said, planting a hand on his heart. “But if you need to get your heart rate up more frequently, I know the best way -“ He froze when he saw your grimace. “Ah! I didn’t mean anything! Well. I mean. Not really, I just -“ 

“Zen.” 

“I was going to suggest you add a dance elective,” he murmured, hanging his head, cheeks crimson, and you broke your frown, unable to hold back a grin. Flustered, after messing up his pickup line, Zen was adorable. 

“ _Sure._ ” 

“I’m serious!” He pouted. “Unless… did you want me to mean something else?” 

“Oh my god.” 

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, laughing and smiling at you over his shoulder, still flushed. “Shall we?” He opened the door, and led you into a hall with two attached doors, each of which had a gender indicative sign on them. You followed him into the women’s, and were immediately struck by the size of the space. Although you’d seldom made trips to your old school’s dressing room, you knew for certain that it was far smaller than this. You squinted into the darkness until your companion flickered on the lights. The room was characteristically messy - makeup strewn across the counters, costumes which looked too decadent for high school productions everywhere, including on a rack, which hung a number of uniforms. You were caught by the elegance of the design, and, on some level, were hard pressed to believe you actually deserved it. Zen had no such reservations and handed one to you, an excited grin on his face. 

“Don’t tell me. You don’t have a school girl thing, do you?”

“Shh,” he said, winking conspiratorially. “Only on cute girls.” You tried to fight the flush building on your cheeks and took the clothes from him, beginning to remove them from a hanger and marveling at the quality of the material. It was far nicer than anything you had ever owned. Avoiding eye contact, you stepped behind a room divider and peeled off your clothes. You could feel Zen’s gaze across the room, almost as though it was burning through the wood which hid you, and the idea that he was watching you sent little zings of excitement to your heart, butterflies cascading in your stomach. Not that there was much meaningful about the reaction. Zen was aesthetically pleasing. Quite. Handsome. Sexy, even. But none of that was important to you. You had school to focus on. But this sort of reaction, the flush building on your cheeks, the elevated heart rate, had to be natural, being undressed in the proximity of someone so attractive… right?  
You hurried to redress, trying to shake any impure thoughts from your mind, and stuffed your old uniform into the bag. It felt like a weight was lifting from your shoulders. Finally, you would look like the other students. 

When you stepped out of the divider, the actor’s jaw all but dropped.

“___… I did this as a favor to you, but to be honest, it ended up being even better for me.” 

“You’re despicable,” you replied, making sure to keep enough lightness in your voice so that he would know you weren’t conveying genuine condemnation. 

“But you like it,” he teased, not sounding entirely sure.

“Tell yourself that if you want to.” He cracked a smile. 

“I’ve never met someone like you. Most girls… It’s like they don’t even see past all of this.” He gestured at himself. “You know. The abs, the face, the hair, the talent, the impeccable fashions sense…” he paused, looking back and noticing your arched eyebrow. He cleared his throat. “Anyway. All of that stuff. I haven’t known you long, but I feel like you do.”  


“Did you just compliment you for not falling for your bullshit?” He laughed again.

“I guess I did. I’m looking forward to getting to know you, ___ ___.” You grinned back at him, and for the second time in that day, you felt like your time at Cheritz could mean more than studying. Could mean maybe, just maybe, something special.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a review if you like the story or have any feedback!


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